Missing the Moments

So focused
on my stress
Depressed
I must
confess
unless I change
I dare regress
to so much less
and I start
missing the moments:

My daughter’s
“I love you daddy!”
My son’s
“Hey dad!”
A kiss on the cheek
and a squeeze of my hand
from the woman bound to my soul

Gone in moments.
I never did understand
why I needed to stop.

Don’t want to miss another moment.
Don’t want to watch the time vaporise by.
Don’t want to let this go
and miss the moments
that take up
that shape up
that make up
who,
and,
what,
I am.

© The Drummer Poet
17/05/2014

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